


Supernatural AU - The Price to Pay

by badlifechoices



Series: Jason Todd Birthday Week 2018 [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Under the Red Hood, underworld unleashed
Genre: Gen, bruce makes a deal with neron to bring jason back, but the price is high, demon Jason, jason todd birthday week day 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 11:11:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15684249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badlifechoices/pseuds/badlifechoices
Summary: Neron laughs, a low, guttural laugh. “Oh, you don’t worry about the price. I’ll take care of everything. You won’t even have to give up your soul for this one. Call it a special discount. All you need to do is say, yes.” Bruce feels tears sting in his eyes, knows as soon as his gaze flickers back to the teenager in the colourful costume that he has lost this battle already.





	Supernatural AU - The Price to Pay

It’s the third night in a row that the demon is plaguing his mind, sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room like the mansion belongs to him. Neron’s face is twisted into a smile, so wide it’s unsettling and yet not bearing any resemblance to the Joker’s manic grin. The glow from his eyes is eerie, doesn’t allow Bruce to look away. The demon is patient, his fingers folded over his crossed legs, as his smile never wavers.

“I can give you what you want,” Neron whispers into his ear. “I can fulfill your greatest desire.” Bruce can’t blink, his eyes are so dry they’re burning. He’s forced to watch, as Neron conjures the same images as he did the last nights. He watches Robin, _Jason_ , dance across the room, happiness written across his features as he runs up to the bed, only to disappear into smoke.

“B!” The boy’s voice echoes in his ears. The image changes: Jason, surrounded by flames, mouth torn open as he screams in agony. “Bruce… Please don’t leave me here Bruce! Bruce!” His name falls from those bloodies lips, shouted over and over again and the dread rings in his ears. Bruce’s hands grip the sheets, holding onto them as he tries to drown it all out, tries to remind himself that he needs to stay strong. His heart is aching in his chest, the mere thought that he could undo his greatest mistake, bring back his friend – his Robin – makes his mind short circuit. He’d do anything to make up for his mistake, isn’t that what he said himself? He’d give up everything to bring Jason back from the dead, but it should be _impossible._

And yet it’s not. Maybe Neron has worn down his resolve or maybe he didn’t have any in the first place and he was simply lacking the courage to speak before. “The price- My soul…“ his voice is rough, his throat dry, no matter how often he tries to swallow around the lump. The translucent Jason lingers in the door, one hand outstretched in his direction, as though begging him to save him. Bruce can’t look away from those tortured features. Wouldn’t he readily give up his soul if it meant righting his wrongs?

Neron laughs, a low, guttural laugh. “Oh, you don’t worry about the price. I’ll take care of everything. You won’t even have to give up your soul for this one. Call it a _special discount._ All you need to do is say, yes.” Bruce feels tears sting in his eyes, knows as soon as his gaze flickers back to the teenager in the colourful costume that he has lost this battle already. He doesn’t find the strength to ask about the price, to figure out what Neron means, when he says that he doesn’t want his soul but something else instead.

“Yes,” the word escapes his mouth before he can even consciously allow his lips to move. Air rushes into his lung like he’s been suffocating without even realising it; he can finally blink, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before cautiously opening them again. Neron has disappeared. So has the ghostly image of Jason. Maybe it was all just a dream, a nightmare like those many other recurring dreams that haunt him whenever he tries to sleep. But something feels off, something makes him get up, trudge along the hallways in his pyjamas. The door to Jason’s old room is ajar. There’s no light filtering out into the hallway but there’s something unsettling about the room.

Bruce pushes the door to open further, sneaks a glance inside, only to freeze in his tracks. The curled-up shape under the blankets is all too familiar. The gentle, rhythmic breathing indicating that the teenager is sleeping soundly makes Bruce’s heart jump in his chest. A tousled mop of black hair covers the pillow, a leg halfway hanging off the bed. For a moment, Bruce is rooted in place, unable to move. Then he quietly enters the room, closes the distance between him and the bed. The boy’s features are smooth, no hint of torment or distress evident on his face. There are no deep lines of sorrow, no signs of stress. His mouth is opened slightly, a little drool dribbling onto the pillow. He looks peaceful. Unharmed. And most of all: _Alive_.

Something inside his chest slides into place. The hole, Jason’s death has torn into his heart, is finally healing. He sighs, on instinct moving to gently tuck Jason’s leg under the blanket as well. The boy stirs but doesn’t wake. A smile curls around his lips, as though he can sense Bruce’s presence. He knows that it was the right choice, knows that no matter what happens he will not allow any more harm to come to this boy who deserves so much more than to have his life cut short by a monster who was only using him to get to Batman.

He waits another moment, just to see if the image will fade and he will find the room empty. But nothing changes. It seems that Neron truly kept his word. If only he knew what price he will have to pay, he could fight off the uneasiness settling in his mind.

 

Morning comes, and he is awoken by the sun tickling his face. For the first time in months he feels that he has slept without waking once and without nightmares. He feels refreshed, throwing on his morning robe before heading downstairs. Jason is sitting at the breakfast table already, chatting with Alfred about a new music CD. The butler seems in no way surprised by the boy’s presence. He nods when Bruce enters the kitchen, placing a cup of hot coffee on the table in his usual spot. Jason grins widely at him. “Morning, B! I thought I’d never see the day when you sleep in.”

Bruce can’t stop the smile that settles on his features in return. “I’m human, Jason. Sometimes even I like to sleep.” He sinks into his chair and gives Alfred a grateful nod before reaching for the coffee mug. Jason goes back to talking with the butler, only stopping to try and shove a whole slice of toast into his mouth at once. “Jason. You don’t only have teeth to chew,” he gently reminds the boy. Jason rolls his eyes at him in return.

“Yeah, yeah, B. Anyway, you gotta wish me luck we’re gonna have this test in school today and it’s gonna be _so_ hard. I mean y’know I studied a lot but I’m still kinda nervous.” Bruce takes a sip of his coffee and glances at the newspaper, Alfred placed next to his mug. _27 th of April._ His hand stops mid-air, unable to bring the mug up to his lips. This is why nothing seems out of the ordinary, why Alfred doesn’t think it’s strange that there’s a dead boy sitting at the breakfast table. It never happened. None of it happened. They’re not in Bosnia, not chasing the Joker. He feels his eyes getting wet and shakes his head, trying to pull himself together. This is how it’s supposed to be. This is all he ever wished for: A second chance.

He forces his hand to move, feels the burn of the coffee on his tongue. A movement catches his eye. Jason is turning his head towards his dinner plate and for a second an expression flickers across his face that Bruce can’t quite place. His mouth is pressed into a thin line and there’s a glint in his eyes, that sends a shiver down Bruce’s spine. Those usually so bright, green eyes, look up at him and for a moment it seems like there’s something else hiding behind them, the pupil blown wide and the iris darkening.

Bruce blinks and when he looks back at the boy, his eyes are as they always are, a smile lingering on his lips, as he licks his fingers clean of the homemade marmalade. “What is it?”, he asks, when he notices that Bruce is staring but the older man doesn’t know what to answer. He only shakes his head, tries to return the smile of his young ward and reaches for the newspaper to distract himself.

 

Something is different. Bruce can’t put his finger on it but something isn’t quite right. He finds Jason sitting on his windowsill the next night, just quietly staring out into the darkness. He’s not moving, at first it doesn’t even look like he’s breathing. His shoulders are hunched over, hair falling into his face. Once he hears Bruce’s footsteps, his head whips around and Bruce could swear that he saw a red glint in those eyes, before the boy falls back into his usual cheerful behavior. “B! What’s up? I tried to tell you ‘bout my test but you were busy earlier. Wanna hear about it?”

Bruce nods, unable to speak and Jason falls into a retelling of every question that he had to answer on his test and how he’s pretty sure that he’s aced it, but he can’t quite be sure because some of his classmates had different answers. The older man only hums in response but it doesn’t seem to bother the teenager, he’s too busy with his story.

 

They go on patrol for the first night that week and Bruce can’t help watching Jason. His movements are lighter than usual, faster, almost too much to still be considered _human_. A bullet whizzes past Jason’s temple and there’s no second of surprise on his features, instead he lets himself drop two stories and lands in front of the shooter; the impact seemingly doesn’t affect him at all. The teenager tears the gun from the man’s hands and pushes him against the wall with an arm against his throat before Bruce could even call out to him. The streetlight above the two flickers and Bruce’s eyes are drawn to the shadow that Jason throws onto the concrete. It’s twisted, moving where the teenager’s actual body is staying still and above his shoulders he spots what looks like wings, large and tattered. They seem to grow as Bruce stares at them, devouring the alleyway. The streetlight above doesn’t go out, but it seems to lose its light, no longer illuminating the street.

“You want to kill me?”, the creature growls through Jason’s teeth. “Give it a try. You wouldn’t be the first.” The boy bares a set of teeth that is too sharp, too pointed to be in any way human. The man in front of him whimpers, tears streaming down his dirty face as he begs for his life.

Jason only huffs out a disgusted breath, slams the criminal’s head into the wall and lets him drop to the ground. Then he turns around to face Bruce and gives him a blinding smile that is too innocent for any of the things that just happened. The shadows disappear, the light thrown into the alleyway as well and now it’s just Robin again, just a slim teenager in a colourful outfit, waiting for Batman’s orders.

Bruce swallows thickly, tries to pull himself together. “Let’s drop this one off at the station and then go home. You got school in the morning.” Jason gives him a sulky face but doesn’t complain. He follows Bruce without a word of objection, not once dancing out of line and Bruce wonders if he’s simply losing his mind. Whenever he looks over it’s just Jason and yet there seems to be something more, something darker to him.

 

He wakes up in the middle of the night and finds Jason sitting at the end of the bed. The boy isn’t moving, isn’t even looking at him. He’s hunched over, shivering. “Jay. What is it? Can’t sleep?” He moves towards the boy and reaches out to gently touch his shoulder. The other flinches away from him. A pair of eerie red eyes meet his own, lips crimson and dripping with blood.

“I’m a monster,” the boy whispers, not once blinking or breaking eye-contact. “I’m a monster, B. He promised he’d bring me back, but he made me into a monster.”

Bruce swallows thickly but he doesn’t pull his hand back. Instead he places it on the boy’s shoulder. “You’re not a monster, Jay. Whatever this is, we can figure it out together. We’ll find a way, I promise.”

Jason laughs, dry and hysterical. “There’s no way to make this go away. This is the price I have to pay.”

His words send icy chills through Bruce’s body, his blood freezing in his veins. The price to pay. He realises, that there is no price higher than the one he can’t pay himself. Instead of giving up his soul to bring Jason back, he gave up Jason’s. “We’ll fix this,” he repeats, pulling the teenager in for a tight hug. “We’ll fix this.” Somehow Bruce knows that it’s a promise that he can’t keep but he doesn’t know what else to do.

Jason’s body is trembling, hands clinging to the older man. Something leathery brushes against his arms and Bruce doesn’t have to look to know that it’s the boy’s wings, awkwardly folded against his body.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm a day late because i was too busy yesterday but here goes  
> might actually elaborate on this AU because damn i love the idea of demon jason and i wanna see what bruce tries to help him out...


End file.
